


filtered

by andnowforyaya



Category: B.A.P, K-pop
Genre: Band Fic, Closeted Character, Coming Out, Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Secret Relationship, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 16:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1905459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andnowforyaya/pseuds/andnowforyaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We should stop doing this,” he says as he flicks a small flame to life, inhaling deeply on the cigarette between his lips until the tip flares orange and then dies down to a smolder.</p><p>“You always say that, every time,” Daehyun mumbles, quiet and subdued, grey like the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	filtered

Himchan knows Daehyun is awake. Daehyun always wakes before Himchan does, back facing him and shoulders hunched, breathing steady and trying to make the moment last. Himchan reaches over him to the nightstand where he’d drunkenly thrown some of the things he’d been carrying in his pockets last night: his keys, his wallet, a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. He shakes out a cigarette as Daehyun groans, quietly complaining, and takes up his lighter, too.

“We should stop doing this,” he says as he flicks a small flame to life, inhaling deeply on the cigarette between his lips until the tip flares orange and then dies down to a smolder.

“You always say that, every time,” Daehyun mumbles, quiet and subdued, grey like the morning.

“Do you have an ashtray?” Smoke furls out of his mouth. He imagines his lungs filling up with it and then pumping it out again, toxic.

“I don’t smoke,” Daehyun says.

“You used to have an ashtray.”

Daehyun exhales. “Well, you haven’t come around in a while, so I threw it out.”

“It was a nice one,” Himchan says, taking another drag. The ash is about to drop. On the other bedside table on his side there’s a single magazine with his face on the cover. He shakes the cigarette over the print-out of his eyes and the ash falls like snow, blinding the picture. “Right? The blue and green one. Yongguk said it was made of seaglass.”

“I don’t really give a fuck about the ashtray right now, hyung.”

“Ah,” Himchan says. “Of course.”

.

The details of how they started don’t matter; or, once upon a time they did matter -- Himchan remembers the first shy brush of Daehyun’s lips against his, how quickly everything progressed like they were caught up in a hurricane -- but if their relationship is a storm then they’ve been caught in the eye for too long, and now all that matters is that they end before everything is torn apart.

Nahyun bumps shoulders with him under the tarp. It’s drizzling out, like it has been for the past few days, which is actually a boon to the production staff as they’ve had a chance to repeatedly film their confession scene. The pair of secondary actors are filming, now, and Himchan allows Nahyun to pull the throw blanket over his shoulders over her own. She’s sleeveless and wet, teeth chattering as she shows him the screen of her phone.

“Daehyun-oppa’s new album is doing well,” she says, smiling. “Everyone says it was a great collaboration with Yongguk-oppa, too. He must be proud of producing it with him.”

She scrolls down and a picture emerges. It’s from the album photobook. Daehyun and Yongguk had chosen to put out an album of ballads and jazzy numbers and the photobook reflects that, capturing Daehyun in soft light and colors, his hair dark and his eyes inviting.

“He looks happy, doesn’t he?” Nahyun beams up at Himchan.

She’s still young -- fresh-faced. Himchan doesn’t have the heart to tell her there’s so much that lies below the surface. He doesn’t look happy; he looks fake.

Himchan knows it’s just a photo. He’d bought a copy of the album himself and gone through the pictures wondering how many takes it took to get the right shot, how tired everyone must have been. Right now Daehyun is promoting. He hasn’t seen him in person in weeks.

“He does,” he tells Nahyun, who goes back to scrolling through her phone, glancing over other updates in the entertainment world.

One of the make-up artists wants to touch him up before they start filming the next scene. He leaves Nahyun with the blanket and her pictures, and wonders if he’s happy.

.

When he can’t sleep, he exercises. He’s got a sharpness to his jawline and cut to his shoulders he fights to maintain, and this helps. Insomnia helps.

He turns the radio on in the small gym on the top floor of his apartment building with the little remote he finds above the sound system. This late at night, there’s no one else around, so he can choose the station he wants.

Daehyun’s going on a talk-show in a few minutes, but it’s not like he timed his workout so that he could listen to him while he counts his breaths as he runs on the treadmill.

Still, the announcer introduces Daehyun to a melody of chimes and pre-recorded applause, and Daehyun laughs the same open-mouthed, delighted laugh he’s had since TS allowed him to remove the mask. Himchan increases the pace on his treadmill, steadying his breathing.

The treadmills are lined up by the windows, facing out so that you can look over the city as you run. Sometimes, it feels like Himchan could crash right through the glass if he ran hard enough.

They talk about Daehyun’s new album. About working with Yongguk. Speculation regarding the return of B.A.P activities as a whole group, since the two youngest have been released from their conscription for a couple of months now. Daehyun’s answers are scripted and bright. He improvises and flirts with the MC, and then laughs when they have to wind their way back to the sheets of paper in front of them. Even though Himchan isn’t there in the studio, he can picture it perfectly.

“Daehyun-sshi,” the MC begins, moving on to her next question. “When you and Yongguk-sshi were making this album together, what did you think about? What helped you become inspired or enabled you to wrap up production?”

There is a lull.

On the radio, silence is amplified. A single second feels like five. Daehyun is quiet for maybe three, and cuts the MC off when she tries to fill the empty space.

“This isn’t in the script,” Daehyun says, like a confession, “so I don’t know if I should say it, but--”

“Please go ahead,” the MC says.

“While Yongguk-hyung and I were making the album together, I actually thought a lot about our teammate, Himchan-hyung. When you listen to the album there are a lot of jazz-influenced songs and sweeter ballads, and it makes me think of going to a coffee shop and ordering an iced americano, of sitting by the window and watching people walk by. Himchan-hyung has that kind of aura. Cool and confident. Plus, his favorite drink is coffee. It really helped a lot.”

“I see,” the MC says. “So you thought of your teammate, Himchan-sshi? Himchan-sshi, are you listening?”

Daehyun laughs again. “I’m embarrassed,” he mutters.

“Daehyun-sshi, is there anything you’d like to say to the teammate who inspired you, Himchan-sshi?”

Himchan turns the radio off with the remote. The machine makes a sound like a bug flying into a lamp. He stops running by stepping off onto the sides, but the track keeps moving, whirring and rhythmic.

.

Yongguk’s apartment has roof access. It’s one of the things that made him want to buy it -- a little hatch in the closet with a ladder that pulls down, and then a ceiling of stars and the inky blackness of the city sky. “I like it up there,” Yongguk told him once. “It really clears my head.”

They always end up on the roof, when Himchan visits. They lug up cans of cheap beer even though they can afford the good stuff, now, and Himchan pats himself to make sure he’s got his cigarettes and a lighter, and then they sit cross-legged on the little raised platform on the roof and drink until the earth shows its curvature.

“The album’s good,” Himchan thinks he says out loud. He’s on his back for some reason and his head is hanging over the platform. Smoke rises before his face, making the sky seem even farther than it is.

Yongguk clumsily pushes empty cans of beer into a plastic bag to take out for recycling. “What album,” he mutters.

“The album,” Himchan repeats, dragging himself up onto his elbows and feeling blood rush from his ears. He’s dizzy and Yongguk is still clearing beers. “The album with the jazz-thing. The album with Daehyun.”

“Oh,” Yongguk says. “Thank you. Yeah, everyone seems to really like it. It’s doing well on the charts.”

“Blow the charts,” Himchan snaps, making Yongguk blink. “I mean, it _should_ be doing really well. It’s _good_. You’re an amazing producer.”

“Daehyun worked really hard on it,” Yongguk says, his smile hidden. “Have you told him what you think?”

“No,” Himchan admits, frowning.

“You should tell him. It would mean a lot to him. You know he’s always wanted us to think -- that he could make it, you know? He just wants people to believe in him. I didn’t really know how to address that when we were younger, and I think that hurt more than he’s let on. He admires us - you - a lot, Himchan.”

“You’re a good leader, Yongguk,” Himchan says automatically, but Yongguk just chuckles.

“I’m just saying -- you should call him and tell him what you think. It’ll make his day, I promise.”

Himchan stubs his cigarette out in a can of beer he finds by his left knee. He promises to call him.

.

He doesn’t call Daehyun. He gets halfway through a text before giving up and erasing what he’d written: _I want to see you. When are you--_

.

Seok Gu takes them all out for meat and soju, a long-overdue gathering to catch up. He talks through plans TS has for the group over the next few months, but there’s nothing urgent in the mix. Their dynamic hasn’t changed much, despite all the years that have passed.

Youngjae and Daehyun jabber on and on in gradually rising volume about a topic that makes sense only to them, and Himchan drinks too much. Junhong has a little shadow over his jawline that ages him, and Jongup sweetly ensures that everyone’s glasses remain filled.

“How’s the drama going?” Yongguk asks him, even though he just saw him a couple of nights ago, on his roof. Himchan’s vision swims. Yongguk bobs.

“Filming,” Himchan says, waving a hand in Yongguk’s direction. “Nahyun is fun to act with. Remember when we did the MV for 1004? She’s matured since then. Kind of.”

“Do you like it?” Yongguk asks next. He tops off his soju and they clink shot glasses. The alcohol trickles down Himchan’s throat.

“It’s interesting.” Himchan swallows. “Pretending to be other people.”

Yongguk nods. They finished eating over an hour ago. He feels like a fish in a bowl, staring out at the distorted vision of Daehyun laughing against Youngjae’s shoulder.

Daehyun looks good tonight. He’d come straight from an interview and didn’t wash off the makeup, so he’s got black around his eyes and definition in his cheeks. He laughs again and Himchan stares at the way his features change.

“You okay?” Yongguk asks him quietly, nudging him in the ribs.

“Just drunk,” Himchan says quickly. “And tired.”

“You should go home. It’s getting late,” Yongguk suggests, and when Himchan blinks he realizes that Junhong and Jongup have already left.

“You’re right. Share a cab?”

“I live in the other direction,” Yongguk says, grinning. “Don’t you live near Daehyun?”

“Oh,” Himchan says, looking across the table at the pair of friends still chattering away. “He’s probably going to want to stay out with Youngjae. I’ll just say good-bye.”

Daehyun smiles at him when he tells them he’s leaving. Himchan hugs Youngjae and then it’s their turn, and Daehyun presses his hand small and warm against Himchan’s back.

Himchan sits in the backseat of the car and thinks about the way Daehyun fits between his arms the entire drive home.

.

“I thought we weren’t doing this anymore,” Daehyun says, slipping off his shoes and striding straight-shouldered through Himchan’s living room and into his bedroom, not bothering to flip on the lights. Himchan follows him.

“You didn’t have to come,” Himchan slurs, wobbling on his feet.

“Bullshit,” Daehyun says. He’s sitting on Himchan’s bed in basketball shorts and a hoodie, and when he slips the top off he’s not wearing anything underneath.

He pulls Himchan down by the belt loops of his jeans and kisses his throat until Himchan finally pushes him flat onto his back on his bed and takes over.

In the morning Himchan’s head is pounding and his legs are covered in tiny goosebumps. The covers have all migrated to Daehyun’s side.

Daehyun’s face is smooth and peaceful, lips slightly parted and lashes long over his cheeks. His hair is flat on one side and his fingers are delicately curled up around nothing. The covers come up to chest, and above that Himchan can see the bruise he left on Daehyun’s collarbone with his mouth, red and round and tender.

He reaches forward and touches it, and Daehyun curls up tighter, lashes fluttering, before his eyes open. “Good morning,” he mumbles, yawning and rubbing his palms over his cheeks. He kicks the covers down and reveals his stomach, flat and golden.

Himchan sighs. He says, “You said you wanted a house in the hills, a dozen kids, a loving wife -- this is never going to be anything more than what it is right now. This is me getting drunk and asking you to come over. Smoking cigarettes in the morning and waiting for it to happen again.”

Daehyun doesn’t say anything for a long moment. He turns onto his side to face him, features soft. “I don’t smoke,” he says finally, again.

“Why did you come back?” Himchan asks him. All of his organs feel tight and dried up. He shouldn’t have had so much to drink. He shouldn’t have called him when he got home.

Daehyun slides out of bed. He picks up his clothing and shrugs it on, runs his fingers through his hair. At the door, he turns back. “People change, you know?” he says. “It’s not that I don’t want that anymore. I thought I wanted those things to be happy. Now, I want other things.”

Himchan watches him go. The door opens and clicks shut, and the apartment rings with the silence he leaves behind.

.

Nahyun sends him an article she comes across online about the two of them - they’ve just started officially promoting their drama and attend press conferences and events together, and many reporters have already commented on their chemistry on and off the screen. This article describes them as a couple, out on a coffee date and then shopping for shoes, after.

Nahyun’s text accompanying the link reads: _amazing. reporters can twist anything._

Himchan reads the article over half a dozen times. It could be easy to be in a relationship with Nahyun. She’s safe. She’s sweet.

He calls Yongguk.

“What do you mean?” Yongguk asks incredulously over the phone. He sounds tinny. He must be in the studio.

“I mean, do you think we’d be good together? Do you think we’d make a good couple?”

“Are you interested in her?”

“No,” Himchan says, far too quickly. “That’s not the point.”

“Then I don’t understand what you’re asking me.”

“Nevermind,” Himchan says brusquely, sorry that he called.

Yongguk sighs into the microphone and it comes through as static. “Is everything alright? Is there something you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know,” Himchan says. “It’s fine. Whatever. It’s just an article.”

“Okay,” Yongguk agrees in a tone that belies his confusion. “Sure, Himchan.”

.

“Are you trying to make me jealous?” Daehyun sounds too cheerful on the other end of the call. “You and Nahyun in the news… it’s cute, I guess.”

“ _Are_ you jealous?” Himchan asks, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to know.

“Yeah,” Daehyun says. “Very.”

Himchan scowls. “Do you want to come over?”

Daehyun comes over. They fuck on Himchan’s couch, and then again, slower, in his bed.

Daehyun is worn out, after, when Himchan steps out to smoke a cigarette on his balcony. He stubs the stick out in a dying potted plant in the corner, and goes back inside to see Daehyun’s body shaped like an apostrophe under the covers.

He fits himself against Daehyun’s back and drapes an arm over his middle, pulling him flush against his chest.

Daehyun whispers his name, confused, but Himchan shushes him with a light kiss on the shell of Daehyun’s ear, burying his face in his hair.

“Just -- don’t say anything right now,” Himchan pleads. “Let’s just sleep.”

Daehyun brings Himchan’s hand up to brush his lips over his knuckles, and doesn’t say anything.

.

Yongguk takes Himchan’s confession like he takes everything: in stride. He sits up a little straighter and sips at his coffee, doesn’t look away from Himchan like he expected him too, out of disgust or fear or anything else, and just says, “What happened that made you want to tell me?”

“Maybe I just wanted to tell you, to tell anyone,” Himchan says. That tight feeling in his chest is back. “That’s all you have to say? No other questions? Don’t you think it’s weird?”

“I don’t think it’s weird, Himchan.” Yongguk leans forward onto the table. The coffee shop is filled with the gentle buzz of conversation. Theirs is lost in the white noise. “Thank you for telling me. I’m - happy that you did. I’ve known you forever, Himchan, and this isn’t going to change how I feel about you. Now, you want to talk about something. That’s why you told me. I know you.”

The knot unfurls in his chest. Yongguk looks at him and it’s no different than how he’s always looked at him. He can do this.

Himchan says, “I met someone.”

Yongguk’s eyebrows raise up high on his forehead. “Recently?”

“No.” Himchan shakes his head.

“Do I know him?”

Himchan isn’t sure how to answer. The drag goes on for too long, and Yongguk ends up apologizing for prying. “It’s not that,” Himchan assures him. “I just don’t know if he’s told anyone. Like I’m telling you.”

Yongguk waits. He knows there’s more Himchan wants to say, and he is patient.

Himchan exhales. “I think,” he begins, hesitant. “I think I haven’t been treating him very well.”

Yongguk says softly, “That’s not like you.”

“Isn’t it?” Himchan asks, voice thin.

Yongguk reaches out to cover Himchan’s hand in his. Himchan’s fingers are shaking, and Yongguk presses them down flat over the table, strong and sure. “Pretend to be the cold city man all you want,” Yongguk says. “But I know you, Himchan. So, no -- it’s not like you. What are you going to do about it?”

Himchan turns his palm up to hold Yongguk’s hand over the table. He loves him fiercely.

“I think I’m going to try to stop smoking,” he says.

Yongguk laughs.

.

“Hey,” Daehyun says. He sounds very far away.

Himchan presses his phone closer to his ear. “Are you on speaker? What are you doing?”

“Cleaning,” Daehyun says. “My apartment looks like shit. I haven’t been taking care of it.”

There’s music playing softly in the background. Himchan imagines Daehyun alone in his apartment, rearranging his magazines and game controllers, dusting his shelves, the light filtering in through the curtains over his windows.

“Can we talk?” Himchan asks him.

The music fades away. Daehyun’s voice comes through louder and clearer than before. “Sure - you want me to come over?”

“No,” Himchan says. “I want to take you out to dinner.”

Everything stops. Himchan hasn’t been drinking but he can feel the curvature of the earth. Daehyun’s breath is impossibly close to his ear even though he’s miles away. “Would that be okay?” he continues, when Daehyun doesn’t answer.

“Yes,” Daehyun gasps into the phone, and his voice is wavering and melodic. “Yes -- I would like that a lot, Himchan.”

Himchan breathes out, and promises to pick him up soon.

.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks [suitofarmour](http://archiveofourown.org/users/suitofarmour/pseuds/suitofarmour) for reading over :) you're awesome and i love you
> 
> [writing](http://andnowforyaya.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/andnowforyaya)


End file.
